


To Watch The World Burn

by MagicInTheMundane



Category: Original Work, Slam Poetry - Fandom
Genre: Humanity, Original work - Freeform, Poetry, Reality, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 08:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicInTheMundane/pseuds/MagicInTheMundane
Summary: In memory of those who died during the Sri Lanka attacks, and in solidarity with all those who are tired of watching our home needlessly burn.





	To Watch The World Burn

Paris is burning,   
The flames devour the Notre Dame,   
As though hungry for a feast   
they have long since been denied,  
The smoke   
fills the air   
as though signalling disaster.  
A foreshadowing of horrors,   
Yet to come.

Less than a week later,  
Sri Lanka is bleeding,  
It’s wounds seep into every  
Crack and crevice   
Of every still beating heart,   
As loved ones,  
Men, women, and children,   
Lay lifeless.  
Their bodies littering the streets.  
A round of bullets,  
Scattered around a place of holy worship.   
A statue of Jesus stained with blood,  
There’s no poetry in this.  
Just chaos.   
Just empty silence,   
Where laughter should be. 

Money falls,  
From the pockets of the rich,  
as they pour out gold   
To reclaim the beauty of history,  
Meanwhile,  
In the present,   
Sri Lanka is screaming,  
it’s children, being buried.   
And the coins,   
Stop.  
Go dry,  
As though the rich have run of out of gold,  
Or empathy. 

I wonder,   
Would you still want to resurrect the dead,  
If the spine that fell,  
Had been crafted   
From the bones   
Of the children gone.   
I wonder,  
Why you don’t relinquish,  
Your riches,   
To ease the suffering,  
Of those still breathing.   
How can the richest people alive,  
Focus on the flames of one building,  
When all around them,   
The world is on fire. 

There is no poetry here,  
Just souls swept up in sadness,  
Silence turned to rage,  
Because maybe,   
If I give you a mouthful of flames,   
You might actually start paying attention. 

Because,  
Paris is burning.   
Sri Lanka is bleeding.   
And I am tired of watching the world burn.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this poem, though if you have any constructive criticism I’ll be happy to hear it. I’m always looking at ways to improve and polish my work. I do have to admit that there is something about this particular poem I’m not keen on, I feel like I could incorporate more into it. At the same time I don’t want to over complicate where simplicity would be best. What do you think? Maybe I’ll write a continuation poem, with current events that shouldn’t be too hard. 😁


End file.
